VIP Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “Don't do anything rash.”

  “Rash? Coming back here without protection was rash. Even as we speak, I'm packing to correct that. I'm going to check into a hotel... or maybe I'll take the first flight out to anywhere.” Heading back to the closet to fetch a few pairs of slacks and her favorite designer jacket, Lynn said, “I have to get out of here.”

  “But maybe you won't have to go far,” the detective proposed. “I just got a call from... well, I have a possible solution for you. Give me an hour.”

  “I can't.”

  “An hour, Lynn, that's all I'm asking for. I'm going to find a solution away from the department. Unofficial.”

  Lynn stopped and frowned. “Why would you do this? Why for me?”

  “Because a few months ago you helped someone I knew from the old neighborhood. One of your pro bono cases. Now I want to help you. If I could get a copy of that message, we might be able to do something with it in the lab.”

  The reasoning got to Lynn. “All right. I'll give you an hour,” she agreed, though she wondered who had called and what this solution might be. “And the message. I’ll copy it to my computer and send the audio file to you if you give me your email address.”

  “It’s on the card I gave you. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

  She'd always heard turnabout was fair play.

  Maybe the good she'd done for others was about to rub off on her.

  ***

  “What's a guy like you doing in a swanky place like this?” came a familiar voice over the blasting music of a dance set.

  The hair along his neck raising, Blade Stone turned from the drink he was mixing to his newest customer at the Club Undercover bar. Behind her, a halo of red engulfed the dance floor and worked its way up the tiered seating. Blue neon from behind him washed over her features without dimming them. She was beaming at him, and despite the fact that several years had gone by since he'd last seen that face, he connected with her instantly.

  “Star Jacobek, aren't you a sight.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I go by my given name now. Detective Star would sound a little... well, weird, huh?”

  “You made Detective. I always knew you could do anything you set your mind to.”

  Raised in the same impoverished neighborhood on the south side of Chicago, they'd grown up together, friends, and had shared good times and bad. They'd been pursued by the same gang for initiation, but they'd hung together and resisted, a life of crime being an anathema to them both. As a matter of fact, they'd taken the opposite directions as adults, she with the police force, he with the military.

  For him, that had been a lifetime ago, but for her, an obvious current reality.

  “So, you're Detective Stella Jacobek now.” Though in his mind, she would always be Star, the bright light who'd led him out of the darkness that had been his childhood. How could he have let that friendship slip away, no matter what had happened to him? And now she might be that bright light for him once more. “We need to celebrate your promotion, Starshine. I'll get you a beer,” he said, remembering her preference. “Give me a minute.”

  Blade quickly finished pouring the drinks he'd been making and set them on a tray for the waitress to pick up. Then he drafted an imported beer for his old friend and a cola for himself.

  “Why are you gunning for me out of the blue?” she asked, referring to the message he'd left for her. “And how are you gonna help me with Evelyn Cross?”

  He slapped that morning's newspaper down on the bar. Gazing out from the front page was a lovely if apprehensive woman who was supported on both sides by paramedics as they left a strip motel. The headline read: ABDUCTED WOMAN RESCUED.

  “Tell me about her,” Blade demanded.

  “Evelyn Cross is a divorce lawyer, a bigshot, who does a lot of pro bono. Remember Carla Rincon? She got Carla away from Johnny before he beat her to death.”

  Staring at the printed face, at the woman's frightened eyes especially, Blade felt more than his gut tighten. “And you saved her?”

  She shook her head. “But I'm investigating. The guy who grabbed her is still out there, Blade. He threatened to kill her and she's ready to run. And with the budget cuts in the department—”

  “How about I play bodyguard?”

  Her expression held more than a touch of suspicion. “Why?”

  “I have reason. Personal.”

  “Interesting.” Her suspicious expression softened to curious. “Anything you can tell me?”

  “I'll let you know.” If he ever could talk about what he'd done, that was.

  Thinking about it for a moment, she nodded. “All right, then. If you could give her a safe place for a few days, maybe she would stick around, so when we do find the offender, she can nail him.”

  “Define safe.”

  “Away from her ivory tower. He knows where to find her. He called her tonight and made more threats. She didn't wait to start packing, but I made her promise to give me an hour to come up with a plan.” She shrugged and made a face. “You're it?” she said hopefully.

  A burst of surety swept through him. He'd needed absolution for what had seemed like forever—not that he could ever really make up for his one tragic mistake—and maybe this was the chance he'd been waiting for.

  The owner Gideon and a few other Club Undercover employees like Logan and Cassandra—Team Undercover as they called themselves jokingly—would relish a chance to help another innocent. He didn't ever have to tell them why he chose Evelyn Cross in particular.

  Blade nodded and raised his glass once more, and let his mouth soften to an unaccustomed smile. “I'm it.”

  ***

  The longest hour of her life was coming to an end.

  Lynn paced the length of her living room and glanced at the clock. Again. Just as she had nearly every minute that ticked away.

  Three minutes left.

  “C'mon, detective, call.”

  Because she really didn't want to turn tail and run, didn't want to lose herself and become some nameless face in another city, she'd pinned her hopes on the other woman. She simply couldn't stay put and wait for the other shoe to drop.

  He could be anywhere... waiting... watching.

  He could be outside her apartment building right this very moment, ready to strike again!

  A knock at the door nearly made her trip over her packed suitcase. A glance at the clock told her the detective had returned with a whole minute to spare.

  “Thank God!” Unlocking the door, she swung it wide, saying, “I didn't think you were going to make it.”

  “Here I am.”

  Her eyes widened at the sight of the dangerous-looking man whose dark hair framed equally dark eyes, broad cheekbones, a high-bridged nose and a mouth drawn into a thin, unsmiling line. Her heart thundered in her chest and took away her breath. Still hanging onto the metal panel, she tried shutting him out but he was already in the doorway.

  In? He filled it.

  Her mind whirled as she backed up, wishing she had some kind of weapon to use against him.

  “I'm here to—”

  Interrupting, she said, “Get out now or—”

  “Or what?” he asked quietly, still coming for her.

  She could imagine that deep voice lowered to a whisper, taunting her, threatening her.

  He had to be her abductor, but how had he gotten past security?

  Wildly, she looked around for a weapon and settled on a piece of metal sculpture

  that had cost her a week's salary. She brandished its sharp edges at him.

  “I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” he warned. “It looks dangerous. You might hurt something.”

  “Yeah. You!”

  She swung with all her might. The heavy sculpture sent her flying at him. He ducked to one side. She lost her balance, whacked her hip into his and let the sculpture drop.

  Contact! It hit the back of his leg before bouncing to the floor.

  He grunted and his da
rk eyes narrowed at her. “I told you that damn thing was dangerous.”

  “So am I!” she yelled, slashing at his face with her long nails.

  He grabbed her wrist inches from his eyes and easily held it there, somehow without actually hurting her. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I'm—”

  “A no-good wannabe murderer!”

  In her struggle to free herself, a strap on her sandal broke and she went flying backward. To her horror, she jerked him off-balance and he flew with her. Her back smacked against the carpeted floor and she steeled herself for a jolt of weight that never came down on her when he threw out an arm and caught himself with another grunt.

  Hand flat against the floor, he levered himself over her, barely a paper-thin space between their bodies, as if he were doing a one-armed push up. Though he wasn't touching her, his heat seared her and glued her to the spot. Then something fell from the opening of his shirt and brushed against her face and she realized it was some kind of leather pouch hanging from around his neck.

  As to the man himself, he was far too close for comfort. Close enough that his eyes seemed black. She couldn't distinguish between pupil and iris. Close enough to tell his hair was longer than it looked, merely pulled back and tied, the tail wrapped with leather at the nape of his neck. Close enough that she had to force herself not to move lest she touch any part of his incredibly well-muscled body. He was dangerous enough at arm's length.

  “I'm here to —”

  “I know what you're here for,” she said, shoving at his chest to no avail. He was as immovable as a rock. “And you're not going to get it. Help!”

  “Stop that!”

  “Hel-l-lp!”

  He put a hand over her mouth. “Stop talking and listen for once, would you.”

  You're the one who does all the talking...

  Isn't that what her abductor had said to her right before she'd been rescued?

  “All right, let's try again,” he said in a voice nearly as soft as a whisper.

  Terrified, Lynn couldn't move. Couldn't speak even if his hand weren't covering her mouth. He was going to try to kill her again, and this time there was no one to stop him.

  She heard a sound from the hall followed by a choked, “Blade Stone, I always heard you were a fast worker, but this must be a record, even for you.”

  Lynn darted her gaze beyond him to the doorway where Detective Stella Jacobek leaned against the jamb.

  Chapter Two

  “If I let go of you and get up, can I trust you not to try to hurt me again?” Blade asked.

  Lynn answered with another question. “Why didn't you tell me you were with Stella?”

  “I tried. You wouldn't let me.”

  “I answer the door expecting her and find you standing there.” She didn't know which was stronger, her anger or embarrassment. “What am I supposed to think?”

  “That's another thing. What are you doing answering the door if you don't know who's on the other side? Don't you have any sense?”

  Lynn craned around him at the detective, whose expression was more amused than concerned. “Who is this jerk?”

  “Your new bodyguard.”

  “What?”

  Blade pushed himself up off her. “I'm having second thoughts myself.”

  “You are not.” Stella came forward and, stepping between them, played referee. “Lynn, you couldn't find a better man to protect you than Blade Stone here. You can trust him with your life.”

  “Blade? You want me to trust a man who calls himself Blade?”

  “Yes. His real name's Richard. Blade's a nickname.”

  “What kind of man goes by the name of Blade?” Lynn muttered, righting her dropped sculpture.

  “One who's expert with knives,” he answered.

  Making her take another step back, putting some breathing room between them. She was finding it hard to breathe anyway. This man would intimidate anyone. Which, she thought, probably made him the perfect bodyguard.

  “So you what?” She tried to ignore him and connect with Stella. “Expect me to stay put and let him move in here with me?”

  “No,” Blade said, “you're coming with me.”

  Lynn whipped around to face him. She was supposed to let a man she didn't even

  know control her life? “Who says? Where?”

  “Bucktown.” He named a neighborhood a few miles west and north of her building.

  “We'll provide you with a place to stay, a new look, a new identity.”

  “We, who?”

  “Some people I work with.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I'm the head bartender at a place called Club Undercover.”

  She made a sound of exasperation and set the sculpture back on its stand. “Maybe I can still catch a red-eye out to... well, anywhere.”

  “Don't jump to any conclusions about Blade here. If anyone knows how to protect you, he does.”

  Lynn fought the urge to ask why, then, was he working as a bartender. And the word “protect” gave her an itch in places she couldn't start to scratch.

  “We got off on the wrong foot,” Blade said. “How about we start over. I'm a long-time friend of Stella here, and I agreed to help her out by watching over you while she's busy with the investigation.”

  Lynn didn't miss the look Stella gave him. Surprise? At what? At his being so amiable? But the detective didn't say a thing.

  A bodyguard... she supposed she needed one... and this guy appeared to be as fit as they came. As long as he didn't push too hard, she could stand it.

  “All right. You scared me and I over-reacted. If you're willing to start fresh, then so am I.”

  She held out her hand, and though she wasn't a small woman, she felt as though her hand was engulfed by his. When she glanced into his dark eyes, she was caught by something unfathomable. A connection of sorts. But of course that was simply her imagination working overtime.

  Suddenly uneasy, she quickly pulled her hand from his. “All right, then. Um, give me a minute. My strap broke... “she indicated her disabled sandal “... and I need to change into another pair.”

  “Wear something sensible,” Blade told her.

  Lynn clenched her jaw. Oh, he liked being in control, all right. Before she could respond that she would wear what she liked—and she loved footwear that had nothing sensible about it—Stella cleared her throat.

  “Can I leave now?” the detective asked. “Promise you won't try to kill each other?”

  “Sounds like a safe bet.” Remembering the message, Lynn said, “I sent you that file,” then backed off toward her bedroom. “And, Stella, thanks for doing this.”

  The detective flashed Blade another strange look. Then she said, “I'm going to your office tomorrow, Lynn, to see if anyone has anything. In the meantime, you keep thinking about who might want to hurt you. You have my cell number and I have yours. What about you, Blade?”

  “Not my choice of weapon.”

  Wondering if he'd actually made a joke, Lynn gave him a look of surprise, then limped toward her bedroom. “I'll be right back.”

  In addition to changing into slightly less delicate footwear, she took a comb to her hair, touched up her bruised cheek and swiped a pale peach gloss over her lips. Not that she was trying to impress the potential control-freak in the other room, she told herself. She simply had certain standards about her appearance, and she'd been too much in a dither earlier to make certain she was presentable.

  But if Blade noticed when she emerged from the bedroom, she couldn't tell. He wore a passive expression, checked out her slightly more sensible sandals without comment and picked up her smaller bag and hung it over his shoulder.

  “Ready?”

  “As I'll ever be,” she said, swallowing hard.

  He swung the larger case up so easily it might have been empty, which it definitely was not. An hour gave a girl plenty of time to pack more than she needed.

  “That thing h
as wheels,” she pointed out.

  “Uh-huh.”

  But he was already halfway out the door and didn't pause to make things easier for himself. That is, if the considerable weight of the suitcase bothered him at all, which it didn't seem to. Oh, he was so terribly macho!

  Carrying nothing but her purse—her laptop was history since the attack—Lynn followed him into the hallway and locked the door behind them, hoping that it wouldn't be long before she could return to the only peaceful home she'd ever known.

  Turning, she saw her new bodyguard was already holding the elevator door open for her. If he was impatient, he didn't show it. Lynn took her time getting in the car. The hour was late and it seemed they were the only ones using the elevator, because the first stop was the lobby.

  When they passed the security desk, Tony asked, “Going on another business trip, Ms. Cross?”

  “Something like that.” Not exactly, but she wouldn't exactly call this trip pleasurable either. “I'll see you in a few days.”

  “Have a good flight, then.”

  She didn't correct him but kept going after Blade, who now stood at the outside doors waiting for her. Her bodyguard sure didn't wait around to watch her back.

  Okay, so that wasn't fair. Being a bodyguard wasn't exactly his business. He was doing Stella and her a favor. She needed an attitude adjustment. Surely, she could get along with him for a few days. She might not be looking forward to spending time with Blade on his turf, but she certainly felt more comfortable leaving her building with him at her side than she would have alone.

  “He could be out here,” she murmured, moving in closer to him.

  “Not close enough to get to you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He'd have to go through me.”

  A hard-swallow answer if she'd ever heard one, because he was dead serious. Instinct told her that he was aware of every sound, every movement, every life form within ear or eyeshot. As if he were trained to do so, she thought, but how might he have gotten this particular training? He probably wouldn't appreciate her questioning him.